On the First Week of My First "Real" Job

It’s funny. I remember talking with people I graduated with from Iowa at a party this winter about jobs and generally how everyone was getting along. In fact, it very well could’ve been between the first and second winter vortex, because I remember seeing girls out in 20 degree weather wearing miniskirts, probably taking advantage of the warmish temps. Anyways…

            I remember talking with roughly half a dozen people: three or four had starting positions with investment banks (analyzing portfolios and whatnot), one had gone into logistics, and about three more had either gone into communication sales or marketing. I remember their faces. They were, a lot of them, submissive. Not the kind that is reflected in the quavering of a voice or the tone of speech, but the kind you experience when you are told to fall in line and keep up. The world “frazzled” comes to mind, but without the skittishness.

            There’s something to be said about starting at the bottom. I’m pretty sure I’m not at all qualified to be the one to write the word, but I’ll take a stab at it. We’ve all experienced being in a new place, with new people, not really being sure about what our duties are or where we should align them. We get a taste of that with school. The effect that experience has on a person grows as we progress through life. For many, I’d imagine middle school would be the first time many of us encounter this novelty, what with new classmates, new teachers, and a new schedule. The same could easily be applied for high school and college, with the added weight of both events operating on an increasingly broader set of parameters. It should be no wonder that social dynamics are constantly shifting throughout these years. And then you leave college…

            Or you stay. Doesn’t matter. However, what will happen as soon as you’ve completed your degree or have established that you don’t intend on obtaining one is that EVERYONE (in varying degrees of expectation) will ascribe you to being a part of that ethereal domain, the “real” world. In the real world there is much more novelty to contend with. And yet it is not so surprising that people tend to gravitate towards other types of people and places and things that have been familiar to them over the years. And to be fair, people are generally much more familiar with the world around them after college than after middle school or high school. In that sense, it would seem intuitive that wherever a person is to go, there will generally be something familiar to transfix oneself to. It’s tempting to speculate that there is a period between when a person graduates and his or her first job, because if a person is surrounded by familiar things, the next time they would be exposed to complete novelty (or starting with no foundation, i.e. “the bottom”) is in the work environment, and I’d like to think that this is where the “real world” manifests itself into the strikingly new.

            Of these submissive faces who struggled to find relief in the familiarity of their past lives on that wintery weekend night, many had very little words of encouragement about my teaching in South Korea, which is not to say that I was expecting any. It also doesn’t mean that little was said on the subject. A parent may impart wisdom to a child who doesn’t know any better. A friend may console another through a similarly lived situation. But, in all honesty, what do you tell someone who is employed (or is it deployed?) to work in a foreign country with foreign people doing foreign business? “Good luck.”

           

            I did not receive a finalized schedule for my week until my second day of class. I did not know I was responsible to take the students from the 2:40 class down to the lobby to go home. I also didn’t know about the three different snack times, playtime after lunch, shoe etiquette upon entering the building, the fact that the “Frozen” movie soundtrack is gospel to 8 year old Korean students, and I certainly didn’t know that Korean boys have remarkably accurate fingers when they want to put them up my butt.

            I also didn’t know how charming Korean children can be. How innocent they look when they grab my arm and run their fingers over the hair on the back of my hand, to see the look o wonder in their eyes and smiles of what looks like admiration, or what might possibly be bewilderment. I didn’t know how affectionate some of my students proved to be, always eager to hold my hand when we walk to and from class, or when I lead them to their rooms in the morning. I didn’t know how painfully polite they were brought up, always saying please and thank you for snacks, and always asking if they can use the restroom. I didn’t know how cooperative my students could be until everyone picked up sanitization wipes and cleaned the worktable before lunch, or when they help each other with questions, even when I say ONLY such-and-such a student to answer. I didn’t know I could come to understand and differentiate between all twenty-eight personalities under my direction.

            I didn’t know the language barrier would be so frustrating, especially when a student looks helpless in the face of a lesson. Especially when a student is crying for what appears to be no reason. Especially when they look at me smiling, saying God knows what, only to see my frustration reflected in their confused faces when I tap my ear and say “no Korean” as a shrug my shoulders. Especially when some of my students deserve a verbal pat down to disarm them of any mean spirited antics.

           My first week is how I imagined most first weeks have been. A lot of it was good. A lot of it was bad. Therein lies the beauty of experiencing novelty. You get to see what works and what doesn’t. You find the silver linings and improve upon the rotting ones. It’s a time where experience meets experiment, and despite what shortcomings you may have, you can never fall too low as to throw yourself into submission. Unless you let yourself. But we must march on. We must.